A Poem Not About Love

This is a poem not about love
A poem not about knowing glances
Or hands held illicitly under the table
A poem not about sweaty hands
Or butterflies in the stomach
A poem not about nervous laughing
Or small gestures
Pardon my frankness, but this is nothing like a summer day.

This poem is not about many-splendored things
Or quicksilver in the hand
A poem not about red roses
Or diamonds commended
A poem not about bright stars
Or beautiful dreamers
Forgive me if I forget to count the ways.
No, this is a poem not about love.